The Exception
by RobertDowneyJrLove
Summary: In which Oliver wakes up with a mouthful of hair and Felicity is the exception to the chaos. Olicity for niagaraweasel! :D Now a series of oneshots/drabbles.
1. The Exception

He wakes with a mouthful of blonde hair.

Under circumstances more concerning (and painful) than this one, he'd take a great deal of comfort in knowing that she is with him, his beloved _Girl Friday_, because Felicity is the one person he's always been able to rely on. She's the most reliable, _constant _person in his life. But, now, waking up with a mouthful of blonde hair is amusing because it means she's abandoned her side of the bed for his. Again.

She's a left-side sleeper, he's a right, and usually never the twain shall meet. Of course, that is providing that they are in their own beds. On those nights, though, when neither of them can handle what waits for them in their dreams, they're a little broken down and a little vulnerable, and they crawl into her bed and they seek in each other, what they'd never find alone.

Her hair is soft when he combs it out of his mouth and settles it against her head. It smells of clean white soap and something that's a bit sweet. He presses his face into it and releases a long breath because here, now, he is just Oliver. Palmer Technologies, Ray Palmer, Arrow, and whatever other chaos in his life, it didn't matter.

"Felicity," he breathes softly, looking down at the woman pressed against him. "Felicity?"

Deep breaths.

Steady, even, breaths.

He laughs quietly because any other time, she'd jump out of her skin with him this close. But, now, when it is a mutual closeness, she's sleeping and doesn't hear a word he says.

"Felicity?" he tests a bit louder volume but she doesn't flinch. "Felicity? Fel-i-_city_?"

Her fingers peek out and curl around the edge of the blanket, pulling it down with her as she burrows further into him. "Hmm." Her sigh of contentment vibrates through him and he decides that waking her up isn't worth disturbing _this; _this kind of contentment.

This kind of _peace. _

When her eyes are closed, her breathing is soft and steady against his chest, and she's curled into him as if he is the only shelter she needs. When she's dressed in kitten-decorated pajama pants and a t-shirt that may or may not belong to him – information she's not willing to disclose.

He doesn't say another word, just tightens his arms around her, and closes his eyes again. To say that Oliver Queen didn't have much peace in his life would be greatly understating the enormity of what he dealt with on a daily basis but there is one exception. And she's blonde and her eyes are bluer than the water he stared at for five years and she looks better in a dress than Laurel and Sara ever did. And, she is the one person, he wants in his life for a long, long time.

Felicity Smoak.

She is always his exception.


	2. Let's Make It Work

She is halfway to _Big Belly Burger_, when it happens; that moment of realization when your brief memory lapse gives way to the revelation of what exactly you thought you forgot. Well, that, and for Felicity Smoak, it is the absence of the near constant beep of her tablet alerting her to something. The beep is a bit of a comforting presence on her drive home, every night, and when it's missing, she notices. Immediately.

Thus, the reason her double cheeseburger with fries and a Coke will have to wait. A slightly dangerous, probably illegal, but very necessary turn in an abandoned lot has her back on route to the foundry. The plan was simple; go in, grab tablet from desk, and leave again. Finding Oliver bent over the table, doing something with his suit, growling expletives at nobody in particular, was _not _part of the plan. She won't be complaining, but it hadn't been part of the plan.

"Oh. Oliver. You're still here. Not that you shouldn't be here – this is your home. I mean, it's not where you sleep but this is – "

"Fel-i-_city._" Because, my God, does she breathe at all? Even so, he still feels the beginning of an amused smile quirking his mouth at the corners because this is what she does to him; makes him smile like an idiot.

"Three. Two. One." Felicity murmurs, looking down at the pop of her royal blue heels against the cement floor. "Sorry."

"Did you need something?" his hand twitches, flexing to adjust the size of the needle pinched between his two fingers – just, for the record, he doesn't recommend taking a sword to, well, anywhere. His suit is now sliced in several areas.

"I forgot my, uh…" she looks around in a frantic search for the reason she returned, having left only twenty minutes ago. "Aha!" a triumphant cry and she holds up the tablet she's hardly ever without. "This."

"Of course." Oliver laughs knowingly. "Have a good night, Felicity."

She watches him for a moment, the way he fumbles with the needle, struggling to keep the suit from slipping out of his grasp before he can pull the first loop taut. The thread is fraying and if he keeps this up, the suit is going to be in shreds before the first tear is fixed. She wonders how he can sew stitches into his own skin but he can't mend fabric.

"There's a difference between skin and fabric, Felicity."

Oh.

Oops.

Maybe, that hadn't quite been a thought so much as one of her notoriously unfiltered, thinking-out-loud moments that she was quickly becoming known for. Huh. Yeah. That's definitely it, but still, she can't help but notice his struggle.

"Um, Oliver?"

He blows out a breath of slight irritation at her interruption of his five-star concentration. Okay, one-star. He hadn't been concentrating at all. On anything. Except maybe the way her dress fit. "Yes, Felicity?"

"I – uh, you seem to be having trouble with that." She motions awkwardly to the fabric crumpled in his palm and the needle in the other.

"I don't, um…" Oliver's face heats up, a sheepish expression pulling at his usually stoic features. "I don't sew. Stitches I can do but fabric is different and Diggle isn't available."

"May I?"

She drops the tablet on the desk and shrugs out of her jacket. If Oliver is shocked, he doesn't show it, not that he would. She takes the needle from him and pulls the thread free from the eye, reaching for the spool. He quietly steps aside, letting her get to work on his suit – while, it may be amusing and more than a little impressive to watch, when she goes into work mode, it is usually best to stay out of her way.

"You know how to sew?" it's fascinating, really. Usually, he only sees her this focused if she's in front of a computer.

Her blonde hair bobs with her head before she stills, clasping the thread between her teeth, and expertly knotting it and cutting it free from the spool. "Yeah. I've stitched you up, haven't I? Although there is a difference between skin. Less muscle with fabric, easier, really." she murmurs, reaching for his suit. "Seemed like a good skill to know. Between you and Dig, it's come in handy."

Layers.

So many layers to this girl.

He's known her for a while, now, and he's still not convinced he has her figured out. When it comes to Felicity Smoak, he will never be able to say with any amount of confidence that he truly knows everything.

Oliver can do nothing but smile because…"You are so much more than a girl Friday."

"IT girl, too." Felicity's eyes widen, shock setting in when she realizes just how much she does for them. "Occasional seamstress, part-time nurse – without the license because I never went to medical school. Too many needles. Very scary. Always had that problem. The doctor's practically had to sedate me just to vaccinate me to keep me ready for school. Which is ironic because sedatives are delivered via – "

"Felicity."

"Three. Two. One. Right." Without another word, she turns to the task at hand, and he realizes that she's almost done. The fabric's all but mended itself and her careful stitches pull the fabric together in such a way that if it wasn't for the subtle difference in color, it would almost look as if it was made that way. "Well, I wouldn't recommend doing whatever produced this again, but you probably will so I shouldn't even bother."

"It was a sword." Oliver murmurs as if it is for her ears only. "You know you are more than just an IT girl, or a secretary, or the thousand other things you are to us."

"Oliver…" there's a slight catch to her voice; she wants him to stop but at the same time, she can't help but wonder where he's going with this.

"No, Felicity." His voice is louder, stronger, and there's a confidence in his words. "You are. You always have been. You're my partner. My friend. It hasn't escaped my attention, lately, that I may have taken you for granted. What you do around here – you go above and beyond the call of duty for us."

"You risk your life."

"And, you practically gave yours up to fight with me." Oliver's confidence is hidden behind something much softer, much more sincere, and reverent. "Come on, Felicity. You work nine-hour days at Palmer Technology and then you come here and clock how many more hours?"

"Actually," she interrupts, tilting upward a little bit. "I don't technically clock any hours, here. You don't pay me. Palmer does. Which he so takes advantage of when I complain about something. I almost had to go to HR with sexual harassment claims that were ending up on my desk."

Oliver frowns at this bit of information. While, he can't say he pays attention to every little thing she says, because for the most part, her babbling makes no sense to him, he does take notice when she brings a problem to his attention. Especially one as serious as sexual harassment claims. Ray Palmer may have controlling interest in the company but the people within it still remained Oliver's number one concern.

"Fel-i-_city._" He elongates the syllables. "What sexual harassment claims?"

"A girl in Research and Development is, or was having issues with the security guard. When she would leave for lunch, he would get a tad more touchy-feely than she was comfortable with." Felicity explains all in one breath, shoulders dropping at the end of her run-on sentence. "But, I took care of it."

"…How?"

A wicked grin illuminates her face. "I pulled the funds from his bank account." She tilts her head, thoughtfully. "He had a nice little nest egg, but not when I got through with him. When that was done, I printed a copy of his bank statement, showing he was in the red and left it on his desk. I may or may not have left a note along with it."

His eyes narrow, because Felicity bringing your financial world crashing down around you is bad enough, but when she brings her own personal vendetta into it – that's when he fears for people.

"What?" she shrugs innocently when she notices his look of suspicion. "I simply told him that if I heard anything more of his lewd behavior, his funds would be donated to a charity for rape victims." This is where she adopts a proud little smirk. "And he'd be receiving a visit from a friend of mine, who would be more than happy to change his ways for him. If I didn't, his money would be returned by the end of the week."

"And?"

"I returned his money but not before I asked Dig to have a private word with him." Felicity giggles because honestly, John Diggle had been delighted to set the moron straight. "I'm not quite sure what was said but the man's been good and when Dig stepped off that elevator, he looked pret-_ty _proud of himself."

Oliver just laughs because he knows that Felicity is being honest and he's never been more proud of her. To step up and take action against something as serious as harassment, it is absolute something she would do and it does nothing but further prove his earlier point. She's not just his _Girl Friday_. She's a trustworthy, honest friend; fiercely protective and loyal to a fault.

"You're remarkable, Felicity Smoak." He smiles sincerely.

"Thank you for remarking."

It might have been the way she smiled at him, or the fact that she's fixing his suit, and she looks adorable bent over the leather and neoprene with a needle and thread, or maybe it was just because he's tired of denying his self a chance at happiness. The more he denies his feelings for her, the more he pushes her away, and the less he lets himself think he has a chance, the more brooding he does, and the more dangerous he becomes.

"It scares me." It's an expression of vulnerability – which, for Oliver Queen, is a rarity. "I thought about how different my life would be without you in it and it is scary." His eyes flick unconsciously to the bow and arrow sitting in its gleaming case. "It doesn't matter how good I am with my bow, or how many times I put an arrow in someone, Felicity. I couldn't do this without you as my partner, as my friend."

"But, Sara – " she wants to protest because Sara was…everything. She had been blonde and gorgeous and she could hold her own with them whereas Felicity always needed protection, always managed to screw up and get into trouble.

"Sara was not you." Oliver interrupts her train of thought. "Sara was good, yes. I will concede to that but she - God, Felicity, you're irreplaceable. And, you were first. Sara was – she was Island Oliver and I am not that guy, anymore. You know me, now."

"I like this Oliver." Felicity smiles affectionately.

"Me too." Oliver nods, "You know this Oliver. I cannot be Island Oliver and I will not be Playboy Oliver and bow down to Laurel. She is not who I want on the other end of that ear piece when I'm taking out a criminal."

"And, I am?" Her voice is hoarse, disbelieving, and lacking its usual sparkle of confidence that burned so brilliantly when she spoke of her abilities.

"Always."

There's always so much intensity in his eyes, his words, but this – this is different. This is not the vigilante with the partner who can track the most elusive of criminals or the ex-CEO with the girl Friday. This is Oliver Queen, vulnerable despite his careful guards, and in need of his best friends to stand by him and let him know he's not alone.

"This whole thing with you and with Dig, it's worth more than what I do in the IT department." Felicity's smile could burn out an entire city. "Fixing computers and writing code and being vice president is fun, obviously, or I wouldn't do it for a living. Not that Ray Palmer doesn't pay me well. But, what I do with you, for you, it means more. You save people and God knows you've saved me more than I probably deserve, and maybe one day it'll all end but even then, when Arrow no longer works to keep the city safe." She releases a heavy breath. "I'll still know that what we did, here…it meant something."

"It does – you do, Felicity."

"Don't toy with me, Oliver." The needle drops, a flash of silver against green before it rolls beneath a leather strap. "I cannot handle you doing this. I cannot handle you playing this game with me. It will either work or it won't."

"Then, let's make it work." There. He said it. Well, if a leonine roar counts as saying something then, yes, he said it. He wants this to work. "I'm tired, Felicity. I'm tired of not being the guy to get the girl. I want the girl and the girl is you. It will always be you."

Felicity Smoak is rarely speechless.

Except for now.

And, Oliver Queen can't help but smirk a little in satisfaction. He leans closer, teases her a little, lips meeting just enough to leave them both wanting more. His hands curl tight around her hips, pushing her against the table, and if he happens to revel in the surprised gasp it elicits, well, who really has to know?

The firm pressure of his mouth against hers wrenches the oxygen from her lungs, in a good way. A very, very _good _way. She tastes the rich burn of good whiskey in his mouth and the scent of sweat and cologne overwhelms her. And, Oliver…well, all he can taste is cinnamon and coffee and the feel of her mouth, so warm and pliant under his, it makes him a bit brainless and he makes some sort of little growly noise in the back of his throat that vibrates through her. Hands roam to politically incorrect places but it's okay, they both want this.

"Let's go." Felicity murmurs, breathless and flushed when they finally pull away for air.

"Where?" his hands slip further down, feeling for the hem of her dress.

"Back to my place to make this work."

Her salacious grin pulls the blood from his brain and he follows her willingly, even stuffing himself into the passenger seat of her car, if it means spending the night with Felicity Smoak. The next morning when Diggle dares to call him out about the suspicion of coming in with the same clothes on as the day before, Oliver leaves him flat on his back on the mats.

Three more criminals end up in Starling City penitentiary, that night. And, Arrow ends up in Felicity's bed, getting a reward for putting them there.

Oh yeah.

This is going to work.

* * *

><p><strong>Beta'ed by the wonderful niagaraweasel because I'm still a relative newbie to the Arrow fandom (and, by newbie, I mean I've seen about two episodes, total), so she had to help me with the details and making sure this is in-character. Let's show my dear friend some love for being my amazing backbone in my venture into Olicity. Leave us some love, dolls! <strong>

**Love, **

**RobertDowneyJrLove**


	3. Not So Stupid Mistake

The industrial piercing had seemed like a good idea when she was eighteen. A kind of a rebellion; just the thing to match her Gothic clothes, dark hair, and loud punk music. Of course, her mother had called it a stupid mistake, but it had been _her _stupid mistake.

Years later, Oliver Queen will make a point of tracing it with his tongue when presented with the opportunity. She will make a point of wearing her arrow bar and he will nearly be driven out of his mind before he can get her home.

Oh no.

Not stupid at all.

* * *

><p><strong>Challenged myself to write a story of 100 words or less and not counting this, I succeeded with a word count of exactly 100 words. Enjoy!<strong>


	4. Nothing But A Smile

It's a teasing trail.

On the floor, near her front door is a hair tie. It's black and if Oliver picks it up, he's certain there will be a few blonde hairs wrapped around it, from when she took her meticulous ponytail down. He pockets the elastic with a smile and turns to lock the door behind him. A few steps into her apartment reveals a pin; small, and sandy in color. He continues on and finds one of her heels – magenta, a pop of color against the dark gray wool dress she had worn to work that day. He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it on the back of her couch, where her soft sweater is also laying; a pool of magenta cotton flung haphazardly onto the cushions.

Oh.

_Oh. _

He knows. He knows exactly what Felicity Smoak is all about and he has a pretty good idea of what he'll find at the end of this trail of breadcrumbs. Hmm. Yes. Pretty good idea, indeed. He dare say it'd long been a fantasy of his to come home to a trail of clothes and Felicity waiting for him with nothing but a smile, and maybe that bar in her ear, but that was another fantasy, entirely.

Oliver nearly trips over the other heel.

Gathering himself, he continues on with his search for Felicity, and he finds her earrings on the end table; simple silver loops that had sparkled prettily when she moved her head. He reaches the doorway of her bedroom and finds her dress pooled on the floor and – _oh Lord. _There, on the floor, forming a provocative trail to the bed is her lingerie in a specific shade of red that she _knows _gets to him. Oliver Queen isn't all that big on red, usually, except for Felicity and her red wine and her affinity for red lingerie.

The trail ends with a bed and Felicity.

She's wearing nothing but a smile.

* * *

><p><strong>I might have, maybe, possibly been listening to <em>'I Can Take It From There' <em>by Chris Young and - yeah, Oliver suddenly had a secret fantasy of coming home to a trail of clothes ending with Felicity wearing nothing but a smile. **


	5. Domesticity

He washes, she rinses.

While not a well-oiled machine, it is a system, or a routine, rather. One, both Oliver and Felicity rather enjoy, both because it's time spent in close proximity and because it is something mundane in comparison to their extraordinary night-life. He flicks soapy water at her and she smacks him with a towel. They laugh, talk, and share secrets they wouldn't tell anyone but each other – because, they know that nobody will ever keep secrets quite as well as each other.

He's not _Oliver Queen,_ or _Arrow_, when he's in the midst of something utterly domestic like doing the dishes or helping Felicity pile her massive amount of throw pillows back on her bed. He's just Oliver and, although he gives it the same care and attention he might some new Arrow mission, he's much more carefree and relaxed and he's much more likely to smile.

Domesticity looks good on him.


	6. Coffee and Bagels

_Felicity,_

_Diggle called – emergency in the glades. Be back soon._

_Coffee and bagels in the kitchen. Stay home, Felicity. I need you safe._

_Love you, _

_Oliver._

* * *

><p>Safely ensconced in the warm cocoon of her comforter and body-warmed sheets, Felicity Smoak smiles around the finger clamped between her teeth. Of course, waking up on a cold morning and not having the human furnace that was Oliver Queen curled comfortably around her had been something of a disappointment but the note that had been on the pillow beside her reassures her that he hadn't left for anything short of a real emergency – Diggle wouldn't have called him, otherwise.<p>

Groping the floor for her discarded bra from the night before, she finally finds and puts it on underneath Oliver's dress shirt before getting out of bed and going in search of the promised coffee and bagels. The coffee is still hot, packets of her favorite French Vanilla creamer litter the counter, and a bag from the little bakery down the street is stuffed with warm, fresh bagels. She retrieves her favorite mug from the pile of dishes in the sink, and pours the coffee from the cardboard to-go cup into it. She plucks her tablet from her bag, smears some cream cheese on a bagel, and carries everything into her bedroom to curse at CNN in the comfort of her bed.

They never get anything right.

"Felicity?"

His voice is soft, quiet when he walks through the door hours after leaving her tucked safely in her bed. He's afraid of waking her, should she still be sleeping. "Felicity?" the volume raises just a bit and he hears a shuffle, a muffled curse, and his name.

"Oliver!"

His dress shirt is rumpled about her small frame and her blonde hair is mussed in a way that seems to defy all laws of physics. There's a warm caramel colored liquid spilling over her knuckles and it's not guesswork to say that, that is the reason for the string of colorful expletives that left her mouth.

"Hey," he shrugs out of his leather jacket and tosses it on the back of her couch. "Dig and Roy had it handled."

"That's good." Felicity's smile is brilliant and if not for the coffee in her hand, she might have already been burrowed into him in celebration of his safe return – not that he had been in any real danger. "Thank you for the coffee. And the bagels. And the…"

"Fe-li-ci-_ty." _Oliver grins because she's just so adorable when she's rambling.

"Three. Two. One." Felicity mumbles, looking for a place to set her coffee down. When she finds one, she sets the mug down, and makes her way to him. "Oliver."

"Felicity." He teases, reaching for her. His arms slip around her small frame, tugging her close to him, because he needs her soft warmth and the feel of her body against his is something he's become rather accustomed to in the morning. She bites her bottom lip and his eyes widen marginally when she unbuttons a few of the buttons of his shirt and lets it slide off of one shoulder, revealing creamy skin and a strap of lace in a very specific shade of green.

Screw the coffee and bagels.

He'll be having Felicity Smoak with a side of green lace for breakfast.


	7. Thea Likes Felicity (for Oliver)

She knows.

Thea _"Speedy" _Queen is nothing if not in tune with her brother, but it's not like he's doing his best to hide it, exactly. He's different around Felicity – he doesn't look like the weight of the world rests solely on him. He looks relaxed and refreshed when he comes in every morning and his dark, thundering yell is becoming less frequent when something doesn't go quite the way he wants.

Roy's mood has been on a definite upswing since this newfound development with Oliver and Felicity. And, she's not going to act surprised when Oliver kisses Felicity before he leaves on a new mission to save Starling City from some new threat. Felicity's been good for Oliver – you'd have to be an idiot to miss that, and Thea thinks the sweet blonde is just what Oliver's always needed.

She takes care of him; has his favorite meal waiting for him when he comes in, patches him up when he drags himself in injured, and is there for him, emotionally and mentally. She doesn't pretend to understand his motivation but she doesn't let him put himself in unnecessary danger. More than that, she is just _there. _She is a constant in his life, and even Thea can see that Oliver lets his guard down around her.

Yes, Felicity Smoak is exactly what Oliver needs.

And, Thea Queen is going to make a point of telling him he would do well to keep her.


	8. Cold

The temperature drops.

If it dares to drop any lower than its current number, Felicity Smoak is going to declare it unholy. Or, a matter of national security. Which, she could _so _do. And, while it was likely that neither would send mercury reaching for the gold warmth of the sun, it would at least make her feel better about freezing. Okay, so, she might be exaggerating but when you're born in Las Vegas - essentially, born in a desert stuffed with casinos - it is a little difficult to adjust when the weather does a flirty little dance with temperatures below about sixty-five. Oliver laughs at her battle with the weather and she pouts at his teasing because she's certain if not for all of the leather he wears, he would be suffering too.

She still accepts his jacket, when he drapes it around her shoulders one night before grabbing his bow, and leaving with Roy and Dig. The sleeves are too loose and it hangs on her small frame to the point of possibly wrapping around it at least twice, but it's warm and it smells of Oliver and it is more than enough to keep her from shivering in the cold foundry before he returns. When he does return and they prepare to leave, she tries giving him his jacket but he won't accept it. Instead, he simply pulls it back onto her shoulders, zips it up, and accepts her offer of a kiss as a token of gratitude for the cocoon of warmth he's wrapped her in.

He holds her a little tighter that night; the temperature drops a little more.

She doesn't really care, anymore.


	9. The Staircase

He's thinking too much, or brooding.

Because, of course he is.

He's Oliver Queen.

That's practically all he's done since he returned from Lian-Yo and while, normally, Dig or even Roy might go after him - lately, Felicity is the only one who can make any sense out of whatever it is he's thinking about. His place of retreat is _The Verdant; _more specifically the stairs that lead up to the second level, when the club is dark and quiet during the day. Because of this, Thea is good friends with Felicity _(the blonde may or may not be number two on her speed dial, after Ollie), _and always knows to call the blonde if she finds her brother in the club.

Today is no different.

Dig is on the training mats with Roy, bickering in between punches, and Felicity is using the downtime to run updates and catch up on some other work. Oliver is nowhere to be seen, as usual, and while they have a pretty good idea of where he might be, they don't want to bother him. It isn't until Dig and Roy are packing up for the day, ready to go home to their girlfriends, and the former tells Felicity to wrap it up and go home, that she realizes she hasn't seen Oliver.

"Get some sleep, Felicity." Dig tugs her ponytail and laughs when she attempts to smack his hand. "Goodnight."

"Night, Dig."

It's nearly thirty minutes after the foundry door has shut behind them before she shuts her computers down and goes in search of Oliver. She finds him in his usual place, shadowed away by the darkness, and stuck in his own head. Hell, she can all but hear the gears turning. She slips out of her heels and quietly makes her way to him. When she reaches him, she eases herself into his lap, slipping her arms around his shoulders and resting her legs over one of his knees.

"Hey Felicity," his voice is soft and tired and his arms tighten around her; both to keep her from falling, and because she just feels _so good_.

"Hey." she chirps quietly; rubbing the three-day stubble that carves out his jaw. "Oliver?"

"Hmm."

"What's up?" she murmurs, tracing a sharp line up to his temple, over his eyebrow and down the bridge of his nose. "You've been up here, all day."

Oliver turns and presses a kiss into her temple; "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." her exploration of his face finishes with soft circles on his pulse point. "What's on your mind, Oliver?"

She is.

All day. He's thought about her. Her blonde hair and blue eyes and all of her lovely quirks and how he can see them clear as a bell on a little girl, and how he can so easily picture her quiet strength in the soft eyes and chubby cheeks of a little boy. He's thought about the ring he bought just yesterday, and how he was going to propose to her because he wants this woman in his life for a long, long time. He's thought about Felicity in a white dress, flowers in her hand, and curls falling in her face; about him in a tux with Dig walking his bride down the aisle before taking his place as best man. But, he's done thinking. He'd like to make it reality.

"I'd like to marry you, Felicity." Oliver murmurs against her head, listening to her breath hitch. He kisses her hair and tilts his head closer to her ear to tell her of his thoughts and plans. "I want a future and kids and _you _for the rest of my life. As my friend and hopefully as my wife. So, Felicity Megan Smoak, would you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?"

"Yes."

The tears mix with laughter and when they finally kiss, she tastes of salt and happiness and everything he's been missing in his life since that damn boat crashed. But, he's certain that somehow, all of that led him to where he is, made him who he is, and it is by that force that he met Felicity Smoak. For the first time in his life, Oliver Queen thanks the powers that be for whatever they did to bring Felicity into his life, because he's no longer a playboy, but a friend, a lover, and hopefully, a husband.

He looks forward to wearing that title.


	10. The Puppy

Just for the record, Oliver Queen never agreed to _this_.

Well, not technically.

At least, not until Felicity Smoak- Queen and her damn smile happened. Of course, he's taken down by something as innocent (hardly) and sweet as a smile, especially when the owner of that smile is wearing his name and a ring on her finger. This could have been avoided had he not had such a weakness for that little flash of white between dark lips, and that oh-so-endearing _"Please, Oliver?" _While he can't be certain, he thinks John Diggle might still be laughing his traitorous ass off - to which he says something obscene, but that's for another time. After they had gotten the _thing, _he had dropped Dig off at home for Lyla to deal with, while he made his way home to his own wife.

He tries not to grin when the _thing _curls up in the passenger seat.

It's a tiny little scrap of a puppy, barely qualifiable as the German Shepherd, the lady at the animal rescue place claimed it was, but it is just what Felicity would love. It's all black with awkwardly placed splotches of brown and white and the saddest little eyes. When he had seen it, he knew. It had taken him an hour to sort out the details but it was all worth it when he tucked the dopey little pup into his jacket, to protect it from the cold, and his only response was to nuzzle closer and fall asleep. When he pulls into his driveway, he can tell by the closed curtains that Felicity is still sleeping off the caffeine-fueled thirty-eight hours she had spent awake to solve their last case.

"Let's go, wake your new Mom."

The pup just yips, as if he understood, and Oliver doesn't hold back his grin this time. He carries it into the house and makes his way to the bedroom where Felicity is tucked under the blankets sleeping soundly. It barely weighs enough to be felt on the bed but the enthusiastic licking that occurs when he stumbles upon Felicity is enough to wake her.

"Hello!" her voice is still hoarse with sleep, and she fights with the blankets to reach for the little thing that is still licking her cheek. "Well, hello! Where did you come from?"

"I went and got him from the animal rescue." he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, reaching down to squeeze Felicity's knee, watching as she shifts to cradle the runt in her arms like a baby. "I have the papers in the car - he's all yours Felicity."

"But I thought you said - " Felicity looks up at him briefly but the squirming dog calls her attention.

"I know what I said but I also know that you need the company when you're at the Foundry." he reaches forward to give the puppy an affectionate scratch between the ears. "He's a German Shepherd. They had a few more but when the lady told me that he was the runt of the litter - I knew which one you'd want."

She bends down to nuzzle at the dog before looking back up at her husband - her sweet, wonderful, teddy bear of a husband - and leaning forward to press her lips against his. The kiss is brief but intimate and her message is clear. He watches her; the way her blue eyes light up when she plays with it and the way she smiles and laughs when it does something silly or clumsy. Okay. So, maybe Dig had been right - Oliver Queen may have been a bit of a pushover when it came to his wife.

That's okay, though.

Seeing her smile makes everything worth it.


	11. The Real Oliver

The picture is Felicity's dirty little secret.

He doesn't take pictures.

Doesn't like them. Cameras invade every other aspect of his life. He'd rather they not be present in the parts, he doesn't let the world see. Except for one picture, and only because he doesn't know about it. She remembers the day she took the picture. It had been the first fourth of July after they got married and everyone had shown up - Dig and Lyla, Thea had come with Roy close behind, and even Ray had made an appearance.

He had been relaxed and pleasantly social, dressed casually in a navy blue T-shirt, and a pair of shorts, with a beer in his hand and a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

(The delicious neckline of that t-shirt had been responsible for its destruction later that night. After which, Felicity had to confess to her chest fetish.)

But, Oliver laughing is different.

Usually - and by usually, she means all the time - his laugh is insincere at best. It's half-assed and sarcastic, mocking even, and more for the sake of show than for anything. But the real thing. The genuine _Oliver _laugh is music to her ears. It's low and warm and loud and contagious. His laugh is why she'd chosen that moment, that perfect moment when the pretenses were dropped, and his guard was down, to take a picture. When he let his friends see what Starling City never does.

The real Oliver.


End file.
